


A Certain Persuasion

by RxNovem



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Bi-Curious Dean Winchester, Curious Sam Winchester, Forced Orgasm, Humiliation, M/M, Mind Control, Multi, Non-Consensual Oral Sex, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-15 07:28:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28809618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RxNovem/pseuds/RxNovem
Summary: Dean and Sam are travelling through the desert when they come upon a damsel in distress. However, with powers of mind control and a sense for the theatrical, the female hitchiker proves that if anyone is helpless it's Dean and Sam, who have no choice but to perform in her depraved roadside stage production from hell.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Original Female Character(s), Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester, Sam Winchester/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 22





	A Certain Persuasion

  
In her cut off jean shorts and her shirt tied up around her midriff, standing at the side of the road with her car’s hood up and steam pumping from the engine, she was the perfect picture of a damsel in distress. And that was exactly what she was going for.   
She had driven hard and fast since the gas station where she had filled up, gone inside for a cup of coffee, smoked a cigarette and finally, once the engine was cool, she had loosened the cap on her water tank, removed the seal, placed it safely in her purse, and replaced the cap. Once the engine was furnace-hot after tearing down the desert road, water and coolant had bubbled out. As soon as the red engine light came on, she pulled over, popped the hood and assumed the stance of someone helpless, alone on a roadtrip and with no knowledge of cars. The effect of steam rising from under the cap on the cooling tank was perfect, and she applauded herself for the ring of authenticity that it brought to the scene.  
There were easier ways to entrap victims, but she had a sense of theatre, and besides, the ones who stopped were self-selected for being good samaritans. The do-gooders were always easier to control. They lacked a level of reasonable suspicion. They were also usually so pathetically naive that, when confronted with the fact that the world wasn’t the bed of roses that they had thought it was, their broken worldview gave their faces such a wonderful cast of shock and horror - perfect for their roles in her plays. The cynics, the tragics, and the beaten down were harder to ensnare, being naturally wary, and their faces would become boring masks of defeat, as if they had known all along what a terrible situation they would eventually end up in.   
By contrast, the lawless were fun to play with for a while, but their anger and rebellious nature made their bodies stiff and unpliable, and eventually they would just seize up like rusted machinery. They did make good extras for her productions however, but they were also always so difficult to get one’s hands on.   
But the good samaritans, they were gold. And so she had developed this perfect little roleplay - an audition, as it were.   
It didn’t take long before a black muscle car pulled onto the soft shoulder behind her rented SUV. She watched, her face assuming a warm and grateful smile, as two men climbed out.   
_Ooh, they will do nicely,_ she thought. They were both tall and handsome, dressed in jeans and flannel shirts rolled up to the elbows despite the heat. A couple of wannabe bad boys with small-town manners. The taller of the two had longish, shaggy hair and a non-threatening smile, the other had short sandy brown hair and walked with the swagger of false bravado.   
_That facade will be easy enough to crack_ , she thought.  
“Thank goodness you’re here,” she said, adding just the right amount of crackle to her voice to make it sound like she was on the edge of tears.   
“Car trouble, Miss?” said the one with the long hair.  
 _No shit_ , she thought. _This one’s a real genius._ But out loud she said, “I don’t even know what I’m looking at. For all I know my whole engine is on fire and I’m so late already. Do you know anything about cars?”  
“I tinker here and there,” said Sandy Hair with a cocky grin. “Do you mind if I take a look?”  
“Please do,” she said. “You guys are an absolute lifesaver. I thought I’d be out here alone for hours.”  
“I’m Sam, by the way,” said the long-haired dimwit. “This is my brother Dean.”  
 _Brothers!_ She thought. _How wonderful!_ _There will be all sorts of repressed issues there to exploit._   
“Nice to meet you both,” she said. “I’m Daisy.”  
“What’s a girl like you driving alone through the desert, Daisy?” said Dean poking around under the hood. _A girl like me?_ she scoffed inwardly and put all her effort into not rolling her eyes.  
“LA,” she said. “I have an audition tonight and if I don’t make it, I’ll have blown my one chance to get into Hollywood.” A tear rolled down her cheeks, perfectly on cue. It was lost on Dean, but at least Sam noticed.   
“Don’t worry, Daisy,” he said. “We’ll have you back on the road in no time. Chances are she just needs some water.”  
“Well,” said Dean emerging from under the hood. “Your water tank’s run dry, but it looks like you’re missing the seal. When last did you check her levels?”  
“About three miles back,” she said. “And it was running fine before.”  
Dean shook his head and wiped his hands on his jeans. “Probably just fell off when you opened the cap. You’ll need to get a new one before you can go anywhere.”  
She put her hands to her face and dialled up the waterworks.   
“There’s a spares place about six miles back,” said Dean. “We can go back and see if they have something.”  
“Will it take long?” she asked.   
“Lady,” said Dean smiling crookedly again. “We’ll ride like the wind.”  
“I - I’m afraid to wait out here alone.”  
“Come on,” said Sam. “You can ride with us.”  
 _And checkmate,_ she thought. 

As they crested a blind rise, a formation of brightly painted gypsy caravans came into view on the salt pans off the side of the road.   
“Ooh! It’s a carnival!” she said and clapped her hands excitedly. As they drove, she had probed the boys by subtly shifting her character and seeing what kind of personality they responded best to. They were as two-dimensional as she expected, preferring a helplessly ditzy character.   
“That wasn’t there on the way out,” said Sam.  
The brothers shared a look. She didn’t bother wasting her effort trying to read the silent conversation that passed between them. They were hardly the types to be sharing deep and intricately thought-out insights.   
“Can we pull over and take a look?” Just for good measure, she added, “I really need to pee.”   
“Alright,” said Dean, who was driving. “Not on the seats.”  
“Why would a carnival set up like this in the desert?” wondered Sam out loud as Dean pulled over onto the salt flats.   
It was glorious, if she did say so herself. The caravans were painted bright reds and blues and yellows in an authentic gypsy style, but the real icing on the cake was how the paint peeled slightly from long days of travel in the hot sun. It was, perhaps, the detail of which she was most proud. The other was the mist that settled just as soon as they broke through the outer ring of the formation. It gave the scene a noir, otherworldly feel.   
“That’s not normal,” said Dean. “Mist in the desert?”  
“And where is everyone?” asked Sam.  
“Hey look over here,” said Daisy, subtly redirecting their attention. Set up in the center of the caravan formation was an old-timey stage, the kind where magicians, freaks and snake-oil salesmen would draw gasps from pioneer-town crowds eager to be entertained.   
“This is weirder than an alligator in a trenchcoat,” said Dean.  
Daisy ran over to the stage and climbed the creaking wooden steps.  
“Woah,” said Dean. “Come down from there. We don’t know what all this is about.”  
“It’s a stage!” she said. “Come on! I was born for this!” She cleared her throat. “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you all for being here. I’d like to introduce my co-stars, brothers Sam and Dean.”  
She reached out her hand to welcome them on. They looked at each other, shrugged, and followed her lead, just as she knew they would. Cue lights. Cue music. Cue the cheer of the crowd. And that was when the fun really began. 

The moment they stepped on stage, Sam knew they had made a terrible mistake. A spotlight flashed on from nowhere, and through it’s blinding glare, he suddenly became aware of lines of shadowy figures standing in front of the stage as if a ghostly audience had gathered. Worse still was the creepy music that drifted from God knew where. Carnival music. It reminded him of clowns. He hated clowns.   
“Take a bow, boys,” said Daisy, her voice crystal clear, projected with a stage actress’s skill over the sound of the music and the cheer of the crowd. She looked older now. As if she had aged twenty years in just a few moments.  
He felt his arms drop to his sides, his legs straighten, and his lower back bend in a bow. From the corner of his eye, though he could not turn his head despite straining with all his will, he could see Dean beside him following suit. He was trapped behind his own eyes, his body under the control of some outside force, like a lifelike marionette puppet. He tried to call out to Dean, but not even his tongue would obey his commands.   
“It’s only fitting,” said Daisy to the audience, “that Sam and Dean play the roles of twin brothers, aged eighteen. I shall be in the role of their wicked - and perverted - stepmother! Oh, and how I do love younger men!” She put her hand to her lips in a gesture of poorly concealed indecency.   
Another round of excited applause from the ephemeral crowd.  
“Now, boys, take your positions!”   
An old-fashioned television set flickered on to one side of the stage and Sam noticed that the small stage now resembled the sitting room on the set of an 80’s sitcom, complete with brown tartan couches and a coffee table. He and Dean moved helplessly across the stage toward the TV. He could feel his feet in his boots as they clomped across the wooden floor and then as they padded across the rug. He was aware of his body, of how his shirt clung to his chest from sweat, could feel his hair tickling his nose from where it had fallen out of place when he bowed, but still he had no control of his movements. Inside he screamed, _Stop this! Stop it! What are you doing to us, you evil bitch!?_ But from his throat, no words came. Try as he might to fight it, there was literally nothing he could do but observe himself and the scene unfolding around him. He and Dean moved into cross-legged positions in front of the TV, like children mesmerised by afternoon cartoons. On the TV, an old Mcdonald’s commercial played. The sight of Ronald McDonald in this already eerie setting quickened his heartbeat and sweat beaded on his forehead. 

The McDonald’s commercial ended and started again from the beginning, but Dean wasn’t paying it any attention. His mind was grasping for an explanation for what was happening to them. Was she a trickster? A witch? An old god? Or just someone born with natural psychic abilities? She didn’t fit neatly into any one category, so contemplating her weaknesses was useless. Whatever she was, she was using some next-level mind control on them. And even if he could nail what she was, what good would it do? Once again, he strained to move, just a finger this time, focusing all of his willpower on just making it twitch. Nothing. _Save your energy,_ he told himself. _At some point her concentration will lapse, or her charms will lose potency and at that point you better be ready to fight like hell._

Daisy entered from stage right wearing a floral dress in a style that matched the set. She had mussed up her hair to give herself a harrowed look and let one strap of her bra slip down over her shoulder. She’d even given herself some slightly smudged makeup to get into the character of a stressed-out housewife.  
“Oh, boys,” she said as she hurried across the stage to stand in the center of the sitting room. “Your stepmom has had such a terrible day! What with the mechanic wanting to overcharge and fighting the lines in the supermarket, not to mention the man at the post office…Do you know what he said to me? He told me the word of the day was ‘legs’ so we should go back to his place to spread the word. Can you believe the gall?”  
The audience roared with raucous laughter.   
“That sounds horrible, mom,” said Sam. The inflection was just right, dripping with empathy and concern, but his eyes gave him away. They darted around, trapped in his skull, wide with emotion and fear. She could never do anything about the eyes no matter how hard she tried. Oh well, it was good enough for the audience.   
“I’m absolutely exhausted now. I’m so glad I have you boys to take care of me now that your father is gone.”  
“Why don’t you take a seat and kick off your shoes, ma. I’ll make you some tea,” said Dean. The look in his eyes worried her a little more than his brother’s. They were focussed, scheming, untrustworthy eyes, but she could afford to overlook that. They were so helplessly under her control, that what was happening inside that little head of his was no concern of hers. If she wanted to, she could open him up and read him like a book, but that always ruined the fun for her. That made it harder for her to believe their characters and her own acting always suffered for it. So far, all she’d picked up, as a sort of psychic overflowing from Sam, was his deathly fear of clowns. That had been brought up so close to the surface from the carnival music that she couldn’t miss it. Nor could she resist the McDonalds advert on the TV. It was just another small way of showing them who was in control here.  
She followed Dean with her gaze as he went to the kitchen, taking a seat on the comfy single-seater. She kicked her shoes across the room, and with a theatrical flourish, pulled her bra out from under her dress. She swung it twice around by the tip of her finger and let it fly off into a corner.  
The audience loved that. They always did. She could hear wolf-whistles and catcalls and howls of excitement. Sam, meanwhile, stepped to the back of her chair and began massaging her shoulders, just the way she liked it. “Gee, ma, you’re like the last time the three of us went camping,” he said. “Two tents. Get it? Too tense?”  
She giggled in a high pitch so that it would be heard over the roar of the audience’s laughter.   
“Oh, Sammy. You always know how to make me laugh.”  
Dean returned with an empty cup and she pretended to take a sip. “Mmm,” she said. “Just what I need.”  
Dean took a seat on the floor in front of her and began rubbing her feet. “There there, ma, no need to feel de-feet-ed,” he said, pressing his thumb into the arch of her foot.   
The audience roared once again.   
“Dean,” she said with feigned exasperation. “You silly billy. If you keep practising, maybe one day your jokes will be as good as your brother’s.”  
Dean’s lower lip came out in a pout and the audience ahhed.   
“Now, now,” she said. “Don’t mope. If you want, we can play your favorite game.”  
Dean jumped to his feet and clapped his hands. “Hide and seek in mommy’s dress?”  
The audience sniggered naughtily.   
His eyes were red with hate and rage, but that only encouraged her. It was never as fun when men actually _wanted_ to play. 

Dean found himself on all fours, lifting up the dress that flowed around the woman’s legs. He saw that she wore no panties and her vulva glistened with moisture in the light that filtered through the dress. “Come out come out wherever you are!” called Daisy.   
_What the hell kind of twisted game is this!_ thought Dean.   
Against his will, his hands moved up her stockings and his face moved closer and closer to the scrub of blonde pubic hair between her legs. “Sammy!” Dean heard her say. “I think your brother is hiding in the basement.”  
As Dean’s face buried itself in her snatch and his tongue began lapping up the salty liquid dripping from her, she squealed and said, “And he’s eating all the ice cream from the chest freezer!”  
The audience found that one hilarious. Dean did not. _This is very fucking far from funny in my books_ , he thought as his tongue dove in and out of her pussy and lapped at her clit. 

While Dean was under Daisy’s dress doing things to her that he didn’t even want to think about, Sam found his hands moving from her shoulders to the back of her dress, unzipping it. His hands slid into the opening at the back, reached around under the fabric and cupped her breasts.   
“Do you like that, mamma,” came the words from his throat, unbidden.   
The audience oohed.   
“Mmm...I feel like a great weight has been lifted off my chest,” she said.  
The audience’s ‘ooh’ was mixed in with a smattering of laughter.  
He pinched her nipples and rolled them between his thumb and forefinger. He could feel them, plump and crinkling, but he could do nothing to stop his fingers.   
“What a way to unwind at the end of the day,” she said. “This is the life.”  
The audience muttered with approval. 

Dean’s tongue went from drawing slow, lazy circles on Daisy’s clitoris to flickering with impatient speed. His fingers moved up to his mouth and forced their way down his throat, so far that he thought he was going to gag. He tried to bite down on them, knowing that they were his own, but thinking that somehow he could make her feel the pain if he did. His jaw muscles didn’t so much as twitch. His fingers came out of his mouth dripping with saliva and went straight to the lips of her pussy. They slid in effortlessly, and he could feel the warmth of her envelop them. They curled upwards, stroking, stroking, while his mouth continued sucking and licking. He could feel her body tensing and he was distantly aware that she was close to orgasm.   
His thoughts were still a maelstrom of escape plans. The moment he found his opportunity, he would run, dragging Sam with him if he had to, back to the Impala where their cache of weapons lay. He had a kershaw hunting knife strapped to his ankle, but he had his doubts about how effective it would be against her. He would unstrap it as they went, just in case she managed to catch up to them before they made it to the Impala, but he had a feeling that her full power would fade the further away from the stage they got.   
He could hear her moaning intensify and the crowd of ghosts, or whatever they were, murmured quietly in the wake of the rising tension.   
And then her legs closed around his head like a vice-grip, smashing his face into her and holding him there as her hips rocked and she let out a great orgasmic scream. As the muscles of her vagina clenched, he saw that light filtering through her dress flicker in time with her contractions. With each dimming of the lights, he found that his hand was back under his own control. He gripped her ankles and was trying to pull himself away from her when he remembered the knife tucked into his boot. He made a motion towards it, but just as his fingers touched the cuff of his jeans, his hand went limp once again. Her climax was over and the lights of the stage had stabilised. Her body had relaxed once again and she had regained control of the environment that she had created, as well as the strange mental control she had over him and Sam.   
Once again outside of his control, his body crawled backwards away from her, pulling out from underneath her dress. _Too late,_ thought Dean. _Her weakness has been exposed._

In her post orgasmic glow, she relished Sam’s hands stroking her hair and massaging the back of her neck. Getting her own itch taken care of early on helped to get her mind right for the pacing of the rest of the show and it meant that she could really relax and enjoy the grand finale. Otherwise she’d get impatient.   
Dean poked his head back out from under the dress. “Did I win?”  
“Yes you did, honey,” she said in a voice that was both patronising and satisfied.   
Dean got to his feet and made a childish fistpump of victory. “Yesss!” he said.   
The audience chuckled.  
“Let’s watch some TV,” she said. “Dean won’t you change the channel, please.”  
Dean walked over to the television set and flipped through three channels of McDonalds adverts. “There’s nothing but trash on,” he said with disappointment. “I told you we should get cable.”  
“Urgh. Who needs it,” she said. “We can make our own entertainment. Why don’t you and your brother put on a show for your step mommy?”  
“What kind of a show?” asked Dean.  
“Ma likes the ones with lots of kissing,” said Sam.  
Dean looked confused. “But we’re two boys.”  
“Oh, Dean. You’re such a noodle head,” said Daisy. “Boys can kiss too.”  
“Really?” He asked uncertainly.  
“Of course! Your father _loved_ kissing boys!”  
“Okay. If you say so, ma.”  
The audience sniggered with anticipation as Sam and Dean stepped to center stage in the middle of the living room. 

Dean’s eyes locked onto Sam’s as they came to stand face to face. Sam could feel Dean trying to communicate something to him through that intense gaze, but what it was, he could only assume was something along the lines of “Stay calm until we can figure a way out of here.”   
However, what Dean said when he spoke was, “Oh, Jeremiah, there’s something that I have to tell you, something that might make you never want to speak to me again, but it would kill me not to say it.”  
“Then say it, Benjamin,” said Sam. “I would hate to be the reason for you dying.”  
“Oooh,” squealed Daisy. “Benjamin and Jeremiah! I love this show!”  
“Jeremiah,” continued Dean. “I love you.”  
“I’ve known you all my life, Ben. Ours is a friendship so close that we might be brothers. Nay, closer than brothers, for even my own brother would betray me. Of course I have love for you too.”  
“I don’t think you understand,” came the words from Dean’s mouth. “I love you in the way that a man loves a woman. In a way that is sinful and desirous. I love you such that I wish to bind my flesh to yours, tie the knot of souls, and feel the heated core of you.”  
Sam’s hand stroked the stubbled curve of Dean’s jawline. “Benjamin, I have felt this way for you tens of thousands of times on days and nights stretching back years. I have been sleepless in my bed for the heat of my thoughts for you, and during the daylight hours I have been lost in the intoxication of my daydreams of you.”  
“Jeremiah, do you say that you feel the way I do? That your pulse races and your spear becomes iron with love and lust?”  
“I do.”  
“Then would I be shamed for asking to be granted a kiss? A single kiss for knowing that anything more would be the death of us if the elders were to find out.”  
“You may plant a thousand kisses and more. And if we were to be sentenced by the elders, then I should hope to die having satisfied the longing of my heart.”  
Daisy and the audience clucked and tittered with empathy.   
Dean’s lips moved closer and Sam braced himself for what was coming. All at once, their mouths were locked and he could feel the strong, pulsing waves of Dean’s tongue plunging into his mouth. Worse still was that his own tongue was dancing in return.   
Stranger was the momentary flutter in his belly. He tried to put it down to fear, or Daisy’s control, but surely not even Daisy could trigger those sorts of bodily sensations?   
_Stop it, Dean!_ Sam screamed inside, but their tongues danced heedlessly and Dean’s hands moved down his chest, unbuttoning his shirt as they went.   
Soon Dean’s fingers were trailing his torso, running along the lines of his abdominals, caressing his nipples. _No, Dean, don’t,_ thought Sam, but the conviction was waning now. He could feel himself growing hard and he wondered if Daisy had taken control of his cock as well as the rest of his body, or if this was a reaction to Dean’s touch. It confused him and angered him, but underneath the confusion and anger was something else that he preferred not to think about. Something that felt a lot like desire.   
Sam’s own fingers tore at Dean’s shirt and belt buckle and the moment he managed to undo the buttons on Dean’s jeans, he felt himself drop to his knees. Dean had gone commando that morning for lack of clean underwear and his sizable semi sprung from his jeans as Sam pulled his jeans down to his knees. It swatted Sam lightly in the face and he found his lips draw to it, his tongue circling the head teasingly. His tongue flickered across the salty slit at the tip of Dean’s cock. With every reactive twitch, it grew harder and harder, until Sam unwillingly opened his mouth around the head and his lips wrapped around it. 

“Oh boy,” said Daisy from across the room, fanning herself with a TV-guide. “Now this is entertainment." Dean glared at her. _What the hell are you doing, you crazy bitch?_  
Still he couldn’t help feeling the pleasure of Sam’s mouth wrapping around his cock and the exquisite sensation of his tongue sliding up and down his shaft. Keeping his eyes open and locked on Daisy became increasingly difficult and they threatened to close with pleasure each time his cockhead was sucked deeper into Sam’s mouth.   
Daisy returned his glare with a sensual pout as she lifted her dress and spread her legs. Her fingers stroked at the edges of her wet pussy, never quite touching, as if she were teasing herself, holding off her second orgasm as long as she could.   
_Because she knows that as soon as she cums again and her powers falter, I’m going to slit her fucking throat,_ thought Dean. But this thought was lost when Sam cupped his balls and, with his other hand, began stroking his shaft, all the while sucking the head with such force that Dean thought it would burst. He closed his eyes and gave into the feeling. _This is all her,_ he told himself. _It’s all her._

Daisy watched as Sam devoured Dean’s cock. “Such hungry boys,” she said softly, as she stroked the edges of her labia. The fire in her sex was growing again. _Perhaps one more cheeky orgasm before the grand finale._ _The performance will only be better for it, s_ he thought. Besides, the boys were so much more fun than she had even hoped. She pinched her clit between her middle and index finger as she watched Dean close his eyes and lose himself in the pleasure of his brother’s mouth. _And it looks like someone else is getting into this too._  
Electric tingles sparked from her pussy into the rest of her body and she moaned happily.   
She willed them to remove what remained of their clothing while she pulled her dress over her head and draped herself, naked, across the armchair. Sam returned to his kneeling position, sucking and stroking Dean’s cock. In the bright stage lighting, their bodies were beautiful, glistening works of erotic art.   
She slid a finger deep into her wetness, finding that magical spot inside of her where so much pleasure resided. She was getting close again. She could feel the tensing in her toes and abdomen and the tight clenching of her pussy. _This is going to be a good one,_ she thought distantly as she watched the two men performing so sweetly under her control. 

Dean could feel himself nearing the edge of orgasm. He was swept away in a storm of sensations. His eyes fluttered open and he saw Daisy watching them, draped over the couch, one hand pinching her nipples and massaging her breasts, the other deeply fingering her pussy. She heaved and moaned, her toes curled and her back arched in ecstasy, all the while her eyes remained on them. _Cum, you bitch. Cum so we can escape._   
But the feeling of Sam was so overpowering. His orgasm swept over him suddenly and with dizzying force. He was distantly aware of the lights flickering and Daisy’s cries of passion intensifying as she climaxed. He also became aware that his hands were back in his control when he reached out to grab Sam’s head and Sam struggled against him. Dean roared as the orgasm tore through him and he came deep into Sam’s throat. _We have to get out of here,_ he thought, but the idea seemed so far away as he pulsed his semen into Sam’s mouth, rocking his hips with each powerful burst.   
As the orgasm faded, his hands returned to his side, no longer under his control. Sam’s struggling ceased and instead he kissed the tip of Dean’s cock and stood to face him once more. The opportunity had passed and he had chosen to fulfill his own urges rather than to make a move to escape.   
_What have I done?_ he thought, once more looking into Sam’s bewildered eyes. 

Sam had felt the control return to his body, but Dean had held him so forcefully that he had been unable to pull himself away from Dean’s pulsing cock. _Or unwilling?_ thought Sam.   
_I could have fought harder, I could have bitten down on him._  
 _But you didn’t, did you? whispered a part of him. Why is that?_  
The confusion and anger was back and he directed it at Daisy. _She’s messing with our heads. This isn’t you,_ he told himself. _Or Dean._  
From the corner of his eye, he saw Daisy sashaying over to where he and Dean stood in each other’s embrace.   
“You boys look like you’re having so much fun,” she said. “Can I play too?”  
They parted to allow her between them. She grabbed them both by their erections and slowly stroked down to hold their testicles firmly in her hands. “My, what big boys you turned out to be.”  
She kissed Dean deeply and then turned to kiss Sam. Her tongue swirled in time with her fingers slowly kneading his balls.   
Sam found himself painfully erect. “Looks like you could use some attention there too, Sammy,” she said, as if reading his mind. She gripped him by the shoulders and pulled him onto the rug with her. “I want you inside me, Sam. I want that great big moose cock of yours in me. I want you to take care of me like your father never could.”  
“Of course, ma. Anything for you,” he found himself saying. Lying on her back with her legs spread, she guided the head of his cock between her pussy lips.   
“Oh, it’s so big,” she moaned. “We might need some help getting you in.”   
Dean dropped down behind Sam, pressing his naked torso against Sam’s back. Together they thrust, and with an exquisite pop, Sam entered her. She threw her head back and sighed. Sam moved slowly into her, feeling the squeeze of her powerful internal muscles around him.   
The heat inside her was almost unbearable, like a bath poured just too hot to be comfortable. His cock burned for a moment before he acclimated to her temperature. Was she a demon? Some creature burning with hellfire from within? What did it matter now?  
She kissed Sam and gripped his ass, digging her long fingernails into his rump. All the while, Dean continued to set the pace, grinding his body against Sam’s back.   
“Thank you for your help, Dean,” she said eventually. “As a reward, you can enjoy your brother’s gorgeous bottom. How does that sound?”  
Digging her fingernails into Sam’s ass even harder, she spread his cheeks.  
“Can I really? Is it okay?” said Dean with mock caution.   
“Of course, sweetie,” she said. “You’re doing an excellent job for mommy.”  
Sam winced inwardly as Dean’s cock pressed between his spread cheeks. _No, don’t, don’t -_  
Dean’s cock pushed into him. There was a moment of passing pain and then a feeling of being filled in a way he had never felt before. _Oh my god -_  
His thoughts of protest turned to a kind of internal bargaining. _No one ever has to ever find out about this._  
His cock throbbed and his sphincter clenched around Dean’s meaty tool. He could barely face the truth of how good it felt.   
Dean shifted his weight and thrust in deeply. The combination of Daisy’s hot pussy and Dean’s cock filling him was too much and Sam collapsed on top of Daisy as an intense wave of orgasmic pleasure racked through his body, momentarily overriding Daisy’s commands. Dean, however, did not stop pounding, and with each deep, long plunge of his cock, Sam’s seed pumped deep into Daisy.  
Daisy gasped with mock horror. “You came inside mommy! Sam, you naughty boy!”  
Daisy pushed Sam off her and she rolled out from under him. Dean too rolled off him, his cock plopping deliciously out of Sam’s asshole.   
“Get on your back!” ordered Daisy. “Your brother and I are going to have to teach you a lesson about cumming too quickly. At least he isn’t a three pump chump like you. Pathetic!”  
Sam rolled involuntarily onto his back looking up a Dean and Daisy.   
Daisy lowered her pussy onto his face, smothering him. He was just about to start gasping for breath when she leaned forward and pulled his legs back so that his knees were almost at his shoulders and his asshole was once again exposed.   
“Don’t you stop fucking him until I let you,” Daisy said to Dean. “And Sam, you better make me cum with that mouth of yours or you’re going to be grounded for a month, young man!”  
Dean’s cock slid once more into Sam. Daisy, meanwhile, leaned forward so she could take Sam’s wilting cock into her mouth. She sucked, hard.   
After he ejaculated, his cock was so sensitive that even the lightest touch would have caused him to spasm. Now, she was using the full force of her mouth and tongue on him and it was too much to bear. His body shook and his eyes rolled back in his head. A wordless moan of desperation escaped him, but he remained trapped underneath her, his tongue frantically lapping at her out of his control. Dean’s thrusts became fast and wild, the overstimulation of his spent cock, coupled with the violent reaming of his asshole made him feel sure that he would black out just to escape the overwhelming sensations.   
“What’s wrong, Sammy? Hmm? Is that too much for you?”   
The brief respite when she lifted her head to talk was barely enough for him to get a hold of himself. All too soon, she was back, devouring his cock once again.   
Sam couldn’t have cum again even if he wanted to, but what was happening to his body now was even more intense. Relentless waves of contractions crashed over him. If he had the power, he would have screamed and writhed, but he was helpless. All he could do was let go and let them have their way with him.  
There was another moment of respite as Daisy climbed on top of him and took him once more into her pussy. He was surprised to find that his cock had betrayed him and he was once again rock hard. As she changed position, Dean didn’t skip a beat.   
Her legs pumped up and down and her breasts swayed as she rocked on top of him.   
“Can I cum, mommy?” whimpered Dean.  
“Only if you do it on your brother’s face,” said Daisy.  
Dean kneeled in front of Sam and began furiously jerking his cock in Sam’s face. Daisy watched this, fucking Sam with all the power that her body held, which was considerable. She slammed down on top of him with frantic, aggressive speed.  
“You like that, you pathetic fuck?” she said. It seemed that she was doing her best to squeeze his cock off with her inner muscles.   
Sam blinked in surprise as Dean unleashed another massive barrage of cum into Sam’s eyes and nostrils.   
“Yes!” screamed Daisy. “That’s it! That’s it!”  
There came the flickering lights and suddenly Sam was being wrenched to his feet by Dean’s rough hands around his arm.   
“Sam! Let’s go!”   
Daisy fell into a heap on the rug, still quivering from her orgasm. Sam gave her one final look over his shoulder as Dean dragged him off the stage.   
“Run!” cried Dean.  
Then they were running, through the rows of gypsy caravans and back out to the car, their cocks swinging as they went.   
Once they reached the impala, Dean scrambled through the open window, his bare butt glistening in the full afternoon sun.   
“Got them,” he said, retrieving the spare seat of keys under the floor mat. He tossed them back behind him through a gap in the open window to Sam and Sam snatched them out of the air. He didn’t need to be told the game plan. He raced around to the back of the impala, unlocked the boot and flung it open.   
Sam reached for a shotgun.   
“Are you kidding me?” said Dean, now at his shoulder. “We need more than peashooters against this bitch.   
Dean reached deep into the trunk and pulled out what looked like a gutter pipe wrapped in a blanket. Then, from the box of ammunition, he pulled out a torpedo shaped grenade.   
“I’m going full Arnold on this hellspawn.”  
He let the blanket fall away from the rocket launcher and loaded the grenade.   
Through the swirling mist, Sam could see Daisy emerging. The mist clung to her naked body like silk fabric, but her body was no longer lithe and seductive. It was skeletal with skin and flesh sloughing off her bones - a rotten corpse that had crawled from a tomb.   
Dean pulled the trigger. There was a moment of silence as Daisy continued to approach and Sam thought for a second that they had lost their opportunity to just drive as fast and hard as they could away from her. But then the rocket came hissing out and swept an arc across the distance between them. There was a final harpy screech from Daisy as the grenade found its mark.   
The explosion was deafening and Daisy and the two caravans on either side of her were ripped apart by flame. Smoke and fire filled the air and when it settled a moment later there was nothing but desert.

The two brothers drove in silence, still naked, having decided to put as much distance between them and the ghostly campsite as they could before they pulled over to get some clothes out of the trunk.  
The sun was setting in front of them, but Dean felt very little like a hero riding off into the sunset.   
“Jesus,” he muttered. “What the fuck?”  
Sam put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay,” said Sam. “No one ever has to hear about this.”  
Dean looked over to meet Sam’s eyes. They were wide and intense, helpless even.  
“I’m sorry,” said Dean. “I should have gotten us out of there sooner.”  
“It’s not your fault,” said Sam. “It was Daisy.”  
“Yeah,” said Dean. He gripped the steering wheel and narrowed his eyes against the setting sun. “It was all her.”


End file.
